Velocity Page 18

  “Karen. Over here.” Bledsoe’s deep voice from somewhere off in the distance was swallowed by the large room. The rows of equipment, combined with the floor-to-ceiling mirrors and awkward acoustics, made locating him a challenge.

  “You didn’t tell me we had a case together,” she said.

  “I started to last night, in the car. You weren’t in the mood, so I left it alone.”

  “I’m still not in the mood. And I don’t have a lot of time.” She nodded at the bloodstained carpet, where white tape delineated the position and location of the corpse. “What’s the deal here?”

  “Rayshawn Shines, offensive lineman for the D.C. Generals of the Pro Football League. One of their stars. Found right there, garroted. Stabbed multiple times postmortem. No defensive wounds.”

  Vail stood over the bloody stain, as if looking at it would help her visualize the body as it lay the moment it had been found. It didn’t.

  “So why am I here? It’s a homicide.”

  “His penis and balls were cut off.”

  Okay, that changes things. “So we’ve got a sexual homicide of a large male. How large?”

  “Six-five, three hundred. They don’t screen for drugs in this new league like they do in the NFL. Steroid and PED use is rampant. League’s built on the concept of a narrower field, stronger armed quarterbacks, faster wide receivers. No huddles and more touchdowns.”

  “That glazed look in my eyes is boredom. But don’t take it personally.”

  Ignoring Vail’s remark, Bledsoe handed her a manila envelope. “Crime scene photos. Look ’em over in your spare time.”

  “What spare time?”

  “Hear me out. The PFL had to give fans something more exciting, right? To compete. The average NFL game runs from ten to thirteen minutes of actual playing time. The other three hours is the clock running during huddles, commercials, replays, and time-outs. The PFL got it right—fewer time-outs. Twenty-nine to thirty-three minutes of action. Their games are very exciting, like a constant rush. But when you’re up against a powerhouse like the NFL, you need a bigger gimmick. If a league wanted to grab attention, get a ratings bump, this might be a way to do it. Star player gets offed, that’s big news.”

  Vail contorted her face. “Kind of a negative way to do it, don’t you think? Bad publicity.”

  “I thought there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

  Vail considered the severed gonads and what bloggers would say if that fact were made public. “Your buff star player getting emasculated is good publicity?”

  Bledsoe snorted. “Good point.” Bledsoe picked at a spot on his forehead. “So what do you make of that sexual component?”

  “That sexual component, yes.” Vail sat down on a padded weight bench and thought for a moment. “First impression is that when we see male-on-male sexual homicide, we’re looking at a homosexual offender. Or, it could be someone who’s confused about his sexual identity, or someone who was sexually abused or exploited by a male figure as a child.”

  “That it?”

  “If you’re asking me to profile the offender, you know I can’t do it yet—not accurately. There’s only one vic.”

  “But there are behaviors here,” Bledsoe said, craning his neck around.

  Vail sighed. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do this. She wanted to be putting the pieces of Robby’s puzzle together, seeing if she’d missed something. She pulled herself up, took a deep breath, and cleared her thoughts. Tried to. She couldn’t. “Look, I’ve got an appointment I have to get to. I really didn’t want this case. Each minute that ticks by . . . ”

  “I know. But anything you can give me would help.”

  Vail checked her watch. “I think he’ll kill again. This may not be his first kill. No defensive wounds on a big guy like Rayshawn Shines? Your UNSUB knows what he’s doing. You can’t do this and hesitate or you’ll end up dead yourself. So he exhibited very high levels of confidence. He probably looks at this kill as an accomplishment. He did this, he can do anything. Unless this was a personal gripe, this killer enjoyed what he did. The garrote is an up close and personal kill. He enjoyed overpowering a big football star.”

  Bledsoe absorbed all this, then said again, “That it?”

  “Until this guy kills again, there’s probably not much else I can help you with.” She held up an index finger. “Not true. If I can clear my head long enough to concentrate on this, I’ll be able to give you more. Meantime, if you put together a list of suspects, I’ll help narrow it down. And I can help map out an effective interview approach.”

  Bledsoe looked down at the blood-soaked carpet. “Okay.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but the more vics he leaves in his wake, the easier our job will be catching him.”

  “Yeah—not very comforting.”

  “It is what it is.” Vail held up the manila envelope. “Here you go.”

  Bledsoe waved a meaty hand. “Those are yours.”

  “Oh, goodie. I’ll put them in my photo album as soon as I get home. You know, the fancy leather one on my coffee table.”

  “Now there’s the Karen Vail I know and love.”

  “The Karen Vail you know and love is officially on leave.”

  “DeSantos will come through,” Bledsoe said. “I just got a feeling.”

  Vail twisted her arm and stole another look at her watch. “Gotta run. Doctor’s appointment.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Bumps and bruises, but nothing that won’t heal. This is for my mind. Mandatory.”

  “The shrink has to see a shrink. Ain’t that a kick.”

  “You’re being an asshole, Bledsoe. Don’t ruin my opinion of you.” She turned and headed out of the fitness room.

  40

  Vail had a hell of a time finding a parking spot on M Street, but finally walked into the tiered, gray marble-tiled lobby. She took the elevator up and entered the small, warmly lit waiting room of Leonard Rudnick, PhD. Well-maintained Persian rugs were arranged atop satin-finished mahogany floors.

  Vail had just sunk into the seat when the office door opened. Standing there was a gaunt older man who barely broke five feet.

  “Ah, Karen. Good to see you’re back. I’ve been meaning to remind you that I’ve got a special entrance for agents.” Rudnick thumbed an area over his shoulder. “It’s around—”

  “Why do I need a special entrance?”

  Rudnick broadened his face into a forced grin, as if summoning patience for a petulant child. “Many agents I’ve treated over the years have preferred not to be seen entering a psychologist’s office.”

  “I deal with the mind all day, doc. I’m not afraid to admit I have to see someone to get mine straightened out.”

  “But your ASAC sent you here. It wasn’t a voluntary act.”

  “I was in denial. But Robby sat me down and we had a heart to heart. My boss was right in sending me here. Believe me, if I thought he was wrong—”

  “You wouldn’t have come?”

  Vail let a smile tease her lips. “Something like that.”

  “Come,” Rudnick said, motioning her in with both hands, a hyper-welcoming gesture. “Let’s start.”

  Vail sat down in a firmly upholstered seat opposite an identical counterpart a few feet from her.

  “So,” Rudnick said, patting his thighs. “Tell me. How’s the anger management going?”

  Why’d he have to start with that? How do I begin to answer? Should I tell him about my interactions with Scott Fuller—where I held my tongue but ended up in a fistfight—or about my confrontation with César Guevara, where I rammed my Glock into his forehead? Tough choice.

  “You’re hesitating. Does that mean it’s been a mixed result?”

  Vail grinned. “I couldn’t have put it better.”

  “Well, then. That’s okay, Karen. It’s a work in progress. You at least have seen some improvement, hmm?”

  “Definitely. I find I’m able to hold my thou
ghts without them spilling out. I’m getting better at filtering the sharp retorts. Except when it comes to my boss. I can’t help myself.”

  Rudnick’s brow rose about a foot. “You—you talk back to Mr. Gifford?”

  Vail waved a hand. “All the time.”

  Rudnick nodded slowly but did not respond to that. “Yes. Well. Let me ask you—”

  “It’s not a big deal. I just—you know how it is with some people. You’ve got a different way of relating to them. Some people you can joke around with, others you can’t. My boss, I can give him some abuse. I can usually tell when I push him too far.”

  “So this is humor? You poke fun at him?”

  “I guess there are times when I do that. Mostly it’s sarcasm.”

  “And he’s okay with that?”

  Vail shrugged both shoulders, a slow, demonstrative movement. “I’m still gainfully employed as a supervisory special agent. But—honestly, that’s the least of his issues with me. He probably figures it’s best to choose which battles to fight.”

  Rudnick chewed the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t pronounced, but Vail could see his jaw moving, and a slight concavity in the skin.

  “I’m scaring you, aren’t I?” Vail asked.

  “Scaring?” He laughed. A short burst. “Not the word I would choose, no. But you are . . . concerning me. Respect for a superior is a basic tenet of an organizational structure. Surely you have a feel for that. So when you purposely abuse your ASAC, it tells me there’s more going on beneath the surface. Would you agree?” Rudnick tilted his head, sliding his chin slightly to his right.

  Vail checked her watch. She couldn’t help it. Robby was on her mind—no surprise there—and she needed to get back to his case.

  “Someplace you’d rather be?”

  Vail looked up. “Hmm?”

  “Checking your watch. It tells me—”

  “Yes. You want me to be honest with you, so I’ll tell you what’s going on. Robby went missing. While I was in Napa—”

  “During your vacation?”

  “Yeah, well, things didn’t really work out the way we’d planned.” She sighed, rubbed hard at her left eye. Do I have to go through this again?P

  “Did you and Robby have a . . . disagreement? Does that explain those bruises on your face?”

  Vail sat up in her chair. “No, no. Nothing like that.” She took him through the events of the past ten days, realizing it was going to eat up a good portion of the remaining appointment time.

  Rudnick listened with riveted interest. When she finished, he leaned back and seemed to absorb her pain. His eyes were glazed with nascent tears. “You’ve dealt with cases where families never learn the fate of their missing loved ones, yes?”

  Vail nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Then this episode, at its very least, will make you a better agent. It will give you instant credibility when confronting a similar situation. That type of empathy can’t be faked or created. It’s genuine or it’s not there.” He paused a moment, studied her face, then continued. “As to you personally, how are you dealing with Robby’s disappearance?”

  Vail wrapped a lock of hair around her right index finger, then pulled it behind her ear. “Not very well. That was one of those times when my anger management counseling didn’t help.”

  “Understandable,” Rudnick said. “What else?”

  “As you’d expect. I’m on edge. I’m not sleeping well. When I get the chance to actually sleep.” She turned toward the wall where the doctor’s numerous certificates and licenses hung in ornate gold leaf frames. There was even a commendation or award of some sort bearing the Bureau seal, but at this distance she couldn’t make it out.

  “I see. And how will you feel should you find out that Robby has died?”

  Vail felt a ball in her throat, blocking her airway. She coughed, a dry rasp that cleared her trachea but didn’t completely dislodge the lump. “I refuse to accept his death. Not now. When I see a body,” she nodded. “Then I’ll accept it. Then I’ll deal with it. Until then, he’s alive.”

  “I think we may need to eventually discuss at what point you stop looking and possibly accept a fate we don’t want to acknowledge.”

  Vail started to answer but Rudnick held up a hand.

  “That’s not for us to discuss right now. I’m planting a seed. At present, you have a goal. You’re driven to find someone who means a great deal to you.” He tilted his head, looked her face over, side to side, then top to bottom, before coming to rest on her eyes. “But don’t let it consume you, Karen. You have a son who depends on you. From what you’ve told me, he’s developed a special relationship with Robby, that Robby fills the void left by your absent and ill-intentioned ex-husband. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then remember that Jonathan will be hurting, too.”

  Vail dropped her gaze to her lap.

  “Does Jonathan know? About Robby?”

  “He asked me if Robby was coming by. I danced around the question but didn’t say anything about his going missing.”

  “There’ll come a time when you realize it’s best to level with your son. And he’s going to need you. You can bring him with you, if you’d like. And you can break the news to him here.”

  Vail looked up, pursed her lips. “Thanks. I think I’d rather do it. At home.” She shook her head, as if waking from a trance. She balled her right hand. “But that’s not going to be necessary because I’m going to find Robby. Alive.”

  Rudnick sat back. “Keep your head, Karen. Rational thought will help you find answers. Stay within yourself. Remain focused. And remember: emotion will cloud your thinking, blind you to what’s there in front of you.”

  “I see you know me quite well.”

  Rudnick lifted both hands palm up and smiled. “I’m a student of behavior, Karen. Just like yourself.”

  “Everything’s a learning experience.”

  “That’s true,” Rudnick said. But his face stiffened and he leaned forward with an index finger raised. “Just make sure you take away the correct lesson.”

  41

  As Vail made her way back to her car, she mused on the lure of counseling. Talking through your feelings felt good, if you had a skilled therapist who put you at ease. Still, the lure had to be tamed, because if you were not careful, it could become a crutch. And she prided herself in being able to solve her own problems. That was part of what made her a good field agent—instead of always asking for directions or assistance, she knew the constructs of her rules and regulations—and she acted accordingly. Fine, sometimes I act outside those regs . . . but, fuck it. Aside from my visits to Guevara, I never strayed too far and OPR’s investigations always cleared me.

  The drive back to Aquia, Virginia, where the behavioral analysis unit was located, allowed her to be alone with her thoughts in a relaxed, posttherapeutic state, for the first time she could remember. She had been in motion, in meetings, and in confrontations for eleven days straight, with little sleep. The amount of adrenaline her body had manufactured and released over that time period would be precedent setting. Does Guinness track world records for biologic fluid production? Probably not.

  Vail took the 143A exit off I-95, then swung her car into the unit’s parking lot. Two minutes later she was walking the hall to her office. The lure of her boss’s door was too great. She grabbed the knob, pushed through, and greeted Lenka. “Can I have a minute?”

  “Let me see if he’s free.” She lifted her phone and pushed a button. A moment later, she said, “You can go in.”

  Vail took a seat in front of Gifford’s oversize desk. “Anything new from the San Francisco field office on Robby?

  Gifford peered at her over his reading glasses. “Nothing. They were just given the case yesterday, Karen. Cool your jets.”

  “Who’s the lead agent?”

  Gifford held up his hands. “No. I’m not going to tell you. I want you hands-off. Let them do their jobs. They don’t need Karen
Vail giving them the third degree every day.”

  Vail opened her mouth to object.

  Gifford pointed at her across the desk. “And don’t tell me that wouldn’t happen.”

  Vail swallowed her words and shrunk in her seat. Oh, yes it would happen. Yessiree. I’d keep them on their toes. I’d drive their asses to work the case hard.

  “Do you know if they’ve at least gotten hold of Robby’s cell phone logs? I haven’t heard back from the lab about whether or not they’ve been able to recover the call data off his phone. I haven’t even gotten his logs from the wireless carrier.”

  “All of that’s going directly to the agents out of San Francisco.”

  Vail clenched her jaw. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir—”

  “Whenever you start a sentence like that, my answer should be, ‘Yes, in fact, I do mind,’ so don’t bother asking.”

  Vail ignored the remark. “I don’t get why it was so important for me to abandon Robby’s search. Yeah, the PFL vic looks like the work of a sexual predator, and the UNSUB is likely someone who could become serial, but it’s not a serial case. Not yet. If ever.”

  “I told you—not that you were listening—but it’s a high-profile murder. I had no one else to assign it to and I wanted to get out in front of it ASAP.”

  “But the body’s been moved. Another few days wouldn’t have mattered.”

  Gifford removed his glasses. “Another few days. Really. When do you think you’d have been ready to come home, Karen? If you hadn’t broken Detective Hernandez’s case, you’d still be stalling, hoping you’d find something. And I’d be short an agent.”

  Vail felt her blood pressure rising. “You’d be short an agent? Big fucking deal. Robby—Robby could be holed up in a shed somewhere in Napa, without food and water. He won’t survive much longer.”

  “And he could already be dead.” Gifford looked away and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”